Without a Net
by Morningside
Summary: A story about how Ray Palmer coming to Starling City affects Felicity, Oliver and Team Arrow. Updated daily until complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Without a Net

**Summary:** A story about how Ray Palmer coming to Starling City affects Felicity, Oliver and Team Arrow.

**Notes:** After talking to a friend, she requested that I come up with an eight part story on how 'Felicity-meets-QC's-new-owner' could play out. Eight turned to thirteen and here we are.

The story consists of one shots meant to be read together as a chronological whole. I'll post one part a day until it's complete.

Thanks to Lisa for beta work. And thanks to everyone for reading!

* * *

><p>Two days ago Oliver lost his family's company to someone else.<p>

He's less than happy about it, but at least he's no longer punching practice targets to pieces. The night before Diggle told him that needed to stop, since every destroyed dummy meant needing to buy new ones and the team no longer had access to unlimited funds.

Of course, Oliver knows all about that. It's why they're in this whole mess to begin with.

For minutes he's been complaining to Felicity. Up on Queen Consolidated's top floor, daylight highlighting everything in the office that's no longer his. If he wasn't so caught up in his own situation, he'd acknowledge just how lovely it is having someone like that in your life, who understands you like she understands him.

But right now Oliver _is _too caught up.

(He's working on it.)

"Unbelievable. Everything my parents worked for will be taken over by some obnoxious gnat. And—"

"Hi," greets a voice from the doorway. "I'm the obnoxious gnat."

Felicity and Oliver turn. In between the wooden frames stands a dark-haired man, with light eyes and a beguiling smile.

"Palmer," Oliver says confidently, walking to him on even steps. "I'm Oliver Queen." He offers his hand, discovers the new CEO has a very firm grip.

"Ray Palmer. You know, my mother used to call me 'Sunshine' when I was a kid, but 'obnoxious gnat'? That's a first."

Behind them, Felicity stifles a brief burst of laughter. Oliver looks at her over his shoulder, but she ignores the look. Ray's attention is fully on her now.

"Hi there," he says, slower than before.

"Hi." Felicity approaches them. "I'm Felicity Smoak."

"Pleased to meet you."

Ray takes her hand, softly shakes it. Smiles at her like she's gold. A rancid feeling stirs in Oliver; they're not here to make small talk.

So he walks with Ray further into what used to be his office. Now, Ray Palmer's office. For the past weeks Oliver's lawyers have tried coming up with a way to legally declare Oliver's signing the company over to Isabel Rochev null and void. The bloodline's been broken and Oliver knows it's up to him to repair it.

"I came here because I wanted to meet you in person," he tells Ray, the other side of what used to be his desk. "Explain that what I'm doing is nothing personal."

Ray looks at the papers already on the desk, stacked in even rows, neat files. He smiles at Oliver pleasantly, but it doesn't last long.

"As much as I appreciate you coming here Mr. Queen, what you're doing is essentially trying to put me out of a job. So, let's not kid ourselves. It's _a little_ personal."

Oliver offers a smile about as genuine as Pamela Anderson's boobs. "My intentions are not to cause trouble. I only want my family's company back."

"And I want to see it successful."

Ray sits down in Oliver's chair. It's a mark of territory, they both know it.

"You do have a case," Ray admits, adjusting the chair. "But in the meantime, I'm going to run Queen Consolidated to the best of my abilities."

Another pleasant smile, Colgate winner, million dollar worth. Oliver wants to smash those teeth in. Instead, he feels Felicity's hand touch his elbow, bringing him back to the sensible earth where people don't punch people for taking each other's things.

Instead he follows Felicity out of Queen Consolidated, trying not to feel like this is just one more way of colossally failing at what he so wanted to honor, knowing with every step he takes, it very much is.

He can barely stand still in the elevator. His whole body is rigid; his muscles tense and tight. Keeps rolling his index finger against his thumb, his common anxious tic.

Then Felicity reaches out and slowly interwines her fingers with his. It stills his mental storm, arrests his mind and quiets the demons.

Oliver looks down at her, catching her small smile and remembers what she told him in a clock tower when the city fell apart around them. When hope seemed ruined, she told him words he'll never forget.

He's not done fighting now either.

* * *

><p>All part of the plan, Felicity visits Ray Palmer's office in Queen Consolidated a few days later. Tells him she's looking for a job and hands him her résumé. Sits across from him at Oliver's old desk, ignoring how <em>her<em> old desk gapes empty. It's not that she wants that job back, not exactly. But if Oliver's sitting where Ray's sitting now, she doesn't want anyone else to have it either.

Finally Ray puts the crisp paper down on the desk. Daylight streams in brightly from the windows, making everything seem brighter and clearer. For a billionaire CEO, he's got soft eyes, she thinks.

"You're right," Ray agrees. "I do need a personal assistant and your qualifications are outstanding. However… I'm curious about something." He glances at the paper. "You graduated from MIT in '09, top of the class. Then you started working in QC's Technical Division where you went from IT Expert to Executive Assistant to the CEO—that's an interesting career trajectory."

Felicity expected this to come up.

"I set up Mr. Queen's computer system in Verdant. Then he needed someone he could trust for the job."

"Oliver needed someone he could trust..."

"Oh no, it's not… Actually, I didn't want to take the job. Not at first."

Ray's eyebrow curves. "He made you take it?"

"_No_." She holds both hands out, mentally tapping backspace. "Like I said. He needed somebody he could trust."

Ray smiles one-sided, leaning over the desk. He looks at the paper lying on top before sitting straight in the chair.

"I'm sorry, Felicity. I'm not going to let you become my assistant."

Her heartbeat pitter-patters. "You're not?"

"No." Ray looks at her clearly. "Seeing to that people are where they need to be has always been an interest of mine. My father used to say 'the right people for the right job'. And that's why I can't accept your application. Frankly, you're far too overqualified. When I look at your résumé—graduated with early honors, top of the class, stellar rapsheet here at QC—I simply can't let you."

Felicity sits still a moment before standing from the chair. After adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she starts walking away…

"However…"

Felicity turns. Leans her face to the side, observes the stack of papers beneath Ray's hand. He looks straight at her, glint in eyes.

"QC's Technical Division is… I suppose you can say it's getting reorganized. It's a merge between a department in my own company and Queen Consolidated. I want a new focus on developing software for security and intelligence. Felicity. How would you like to head up that new division?"

She swallows, hard. She slowly walks toward him. "Are you offering me a job as head of a new division in the IT Department?"

"Yes, I am. But I don't expect you to answer right away. Think about it."

Ray waits, watching her expression of stunned surprise. The way white light flushes into the room, making her blue eyes so clear he can see hope in them. Something he, despite his façade, hasn't felt for a long time.

It turns his voice softer.

"Felicity, I'm not going to force you to take the job. It's yours, if you want it. It's a choice I leave to you."

* * *

><p>Felicity's footsteps click their way down into the lair beneath Verdant.<p>

Diggle, seated on the edge of the examination table, tablet in hand, looks up at her.

"How did things go with Palmer?"

"Well, he offered me a job…"

She puts her bag down on the computer table. A few feet away Oliver slams wooden hanbos against practice targets; a broken piece of wood lies on the floor at the edge of the training mat. Roy left half an hour ago and it's only the three of them.

"… as head of a new division of the IT Department."

Oliver stops slamming hanbos. He leans a hand on one of the practice target arms, looking at Felicity over his shoulder.

"He _what_?"

Felicity looks between him and Diggle. "He said he's not going to let me take the job as his assistant and instead offered me a head position in the IT Department. A new division, with focus on security and intelligence."

Diggle watches Oliver, who leaves the training mat and walks over to them. He grabs a water bottle and drinks deeply from it. This wasn't part of the plan; he's trying to think of how they can make it be.

"Did you accept?" Diggle asks.

"Not yet," Felicity answers. She feels Oliver's eyes on her.

"But you want to," he states.

It's difficult for them some times, being together.

The moment in the mansion, a love confession followed by near death and then, days later on a remote island, a heart to heart that didn't really clear up anything.

It still looms over them. There are still all these things they want to say, but can't. Not yet.

Felicity decided early on after returning home that she was going to keep going, move on and not dwell on it.

And with that wind in her back, she faces him.

"Oliver, it's the kind of job that's been my dream since I went to MIT. When I wrote endless pages of boring code at college, I'd daydream about having that sort of job."

"It takes up a lot of time," Diggle says reasonably, "Being head of any division, large or small."

Diggle knows better than most; Lyla's taken over ARGUS after Amanda Waller's dismantling.

"I know. And I still want to keep doing what we do here, but… I think I _can_. I'd still be able to monitor Ray's itinerary, including all of his incoming and outgoing communication. I'd still be able to do what I would as his assistant – I just wouldn't be there, in his office."

Oliver watches her, how everything about Felicity screams she wants this job. The notion that she has to run the decision through them makes him feel queasy—she deserves a lot better, shouldn't have to run life decisions through anyone else—but he tries focusing on her loyalty, not the fact he owes her so much already. And he could never deny her this. For everything else, for all the selfishness he's trying to unlearn, he wants her to be happy. Truly and whole heartedly.

If he can't give her anything else, he can at least give her that.

So he nods. "You know what you're doing."

Felicity doesn't say anything, she _beams _and claps her hands together.

"Sushi's on me tonight, guys."

Diggle watches her go. Arms folded against his chest, he watches Oliver, who starts punching the nearest practice target bare handed. Calm, cool and collected. Every strike precise. The sort of focus that comes when he feels like he's losing control.

"You really alright with her working for Palmer?"

"Not my choice to make, Diggle. If Felicity wants to take the job, she can take the job."

"And you're fine with it."

He doesn't answer. Diggle presses his lips together, looks down. It's a discussion he won't have, because he shouldn't have to. They've been through too much together for this.

So instead, he gives Oliver what he can. Grabs two bōs, walks onto the training mats. Throws one over.

"Come on. Give me your best shot."

Oliver breaks the bō on his first try.


	2. Chapter 2

Felicity's been head of IT Security for a month now.

She's astonishing in the new job. Born to do it, knows her way around the business like she's done it for years. Her division already has four patents out, a million dollar contract under way.

Ray couldn't be more proud of her.

She's his greatest find, his success story since taking over Queen Consolidated. He contributes QC's rising stock value to her. She's modest, tells him it's about a lot more than that, but quietly takes pride in knowing what she does at the company now makes a difference. It's what brought her in helping the Arrow – the ability to make a difference – using her abilities to essentially do _good_. And call her selfish, but she likes having the world know she's not just some boring IT girl anymore.

It's two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon when Ray walks into her department, hands down his pockets, a casual walk not bequeathed to CEO's, but that's just how he is. Comfortable wherever he goes. Everyone else in the department notice, walk a little straighter, make sure whatever they're holding or looking at seems _important_.

But Ray's not interested in anything they have to do. Right now he's only interested in _one_.

He heads straight over to her. Stops outside Felicity's office: half-glassed walls with a view of the park outside.

"Got a minute?" he asks her, as she turns from talking to another. The younger guy looks between them, nods, disappearing out of the room.

"Sure," she says, putting the tablet down on her desk. Several more tablets and files are on that desk, all organized, lying in even symmetrical rows. On the corner of the desk next to the computer screen stands a clear vase with a white lily.

"So I've got an idea," Ray tells her. "It's a little bit out of the ordinary. Truth is, I could use a little help."

"Problem solving is kind of my thing. What is it?"

"You see… the thing is, I'd like you take you out to dinner. But you know Starling City's restaurants a lot better than I do. So I thought maybe you could help me pick one out?"

Felicity lets it sink in, but not too deep. She puts the tablet down on her desk, her every movement slow and hesitant. Ray thinks he knows why.

"I know what this looks like," he explains. "Just another guy in an endless string of men you have asking you out. And it doesn't help that this one is, technically, your boss. But this isn't about me. It's about you, Felicity. I've noticed how hard you work and I want you to get to enjoy your success. So I'd like to take you out to dinner… if you'll let me."

Felicity pauses, presses her lips together before eventually nodding. She hasn't had a night out in _so_ long. A nice meal in a restaurant sounds really, really nice.

"Okay," she tells him and watches her boss, the CEO of two Fortune 500 companies, smile at her like she just revealed the recipe to happiness.

Felicity suggests Orchid's Wing down on 27th and tells him to meet her there at eight. Ray tells her great, he'll see her, he'll make sure to wear something pretty.

She smiles when he walks out of her office.

* * *

><p>The rest happens naturally.<p>

Well. With a little technical help.

Two weeks later, after a twelve hour day at the office, Felicity's thoughts drift to giving up but settle on continuing tomorrow. She's never been a quitter. Always loved a challenge, mystery, something to sink her virtually adventure-starved teeth into.

But even IT geniuses get affected by lack of sleep and long tedious hours.

So a little after nine Felicity heads on out. Tells her team at work she'll help with the rest tomorrow, tries leaving and not letting it feel like neglect. Truth is, there's nothing more they can do. Converting the new servers will take time; all they can do now is wait.

What _she_ should do is head home and get some sleep.

As soon as her feet hit the cool marble outside QC's entrance, Felicity stops. Takes one deep breath and lets the day go.

She's parked in the outside parking lot, privilege of her new position. The fall air is cool and crisp biting at her cheeks; she doesn't mind. Tonight she's off Arrow duty, with Diggle filling in for Lyla at ARGUS and Oliver training Roy.

So when her phone rings she immediately thinks her Foundry-free night is cancelled, but when she sees the name on the display the thought goes away.

"Ray? I'm just on my way home. What's wrong?"

His tone is light. "Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?"

"No. I'm just used to it. When people call, it's because something's gone wrong they need help with."

"Ah. Well, maybe you should have a little faith in the future, Felicity. Some times good things are standing right in front of us."

Felicity glances at her phone screen to make sure the call's still connected. When she flips it back over she stops, side of the side walk, middle of the street.

Ray's standing at the end of street by the parking lot.

He walks up to her, a low calm smile full of all the warmth the evening air's missing. Felicity feels herself relax. There's something disarming being in Ray's presence she likes absolutely.

"How'd you find me?"

He shakes the phone a little next to his ear. "The new cellular tracking software your division has in beta? I personally wanted to let you know it's really good."

"Of course it is," she says proudly. "Still. What you're doing could be considered stalking… seems like the sort of thing I should take up with my boss."

"You probably should. I hear he takes complaints."

She smiles, so does he, and the thought crosses her mind, what she hasn't thought before, but probably known for weeks. She really wants to kiss him.

But there's a little slow lull, a pause in which neither say anything. The night air dances with promise, the mood swings with hope. Finally Ray looks at her, indicating with a hand from her to the parking lot.

"Can I offer you a ride home?" he asks her.

"Yes and no. We're taking _my _car. It's stalker proofed."

She considers a moment, remembering a time in an underground parking lot with a shot-up hooded man in her backseat.

Adds, "Mostly."

Ray smiles, warmer than before. "I'm fine with that."

Felicity fishes her car keys out of her brown leather bag. Walks past Ray into the parking lot, smiling to herself.

Suddenly she's no longer so tired.

* * *

><p>Felicity doesn't ask Oliver to deal with it; he just has to.<p>

Two weeks later they all know she's going out with Ray, even if they don't talk about it openly. Diggle softly smiled at her last week when she said she had to leave or she'd be late for dinner. The day after he put his hand on her shoulder, told her, "You know what you're doing," and she placed her hand over his. Two seconds, then they moved on.

Roy had a different reaction. He slapped her on the back mano a mano style and told her "Good catch, Blondie," before nearly getting the crap kicked out of him on the training mats by Diggle.

And Felicity _enjoys_ it. It's nice having someone who asks how your day was, who hands her a cup of coffee she didn't realize she needed, remembers after just one time she takes two sugars, not one. Someone who offers a sympathetic ear when she talks about dealing with awful customer service halfway across the world who can't hear syllabic difference between diphthongs and monophthongs, which meant she ordered forty crates of office paper on the company's bill instead of four.

Someone who leans the side of his face against his hand and smiles when she starts to ramble, who could listen to her talk until the sun went down. Who laughs when sharing stories of his past, telling her about a little brother with an insect collection whose glass cases one day shattered when Ray performed audio wave experiments and sent the whole family gathering in the insect-littered house. Caterpillars, larvae, blue beetles everywhere. Size of palms and atoms.

He makes Felicity smile and laugh and she hasn't realized until now how much that's been missing from her life. She's used to supporting others; it's really nice having someone who gives her the same in return.

Ray's busy schedule allows her to get away; she tells him she's got yoga most evenings and he doesn't seem to mind. He's grateful to get to see her when they both have time.

She's still the Arrow's partner. Still always there when Team Arrow needs her. Things are different—which doesn't mean they're bad.

Just different.

* * *

><p>Oliver doesn't say anything about it, not out loud. She doesn't need his approval and he actually wants her to be happy. Those are the only things that matter.<p>

That his knuckles go white every time he hears about them is just one of the things he has to accept.

Of course, and he hates himself for it, he can't stand seeing them together. Fully knows it's little to his credit realizing how much he loves her through watching her with another man. He busies himself with his lawyers, trying to legally find a way to get his company back, but everything is a process and takes _time_ and Oliver processes his way through everything by suiting up, training Roy and pulling the hood down low.

It's nothing but an aching heart and watching the last woman he'll ever love be with someone else.


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity visits Oliver in the loft he bought a few weeks ago on a cold December day.

She walks into the loft with Belly Burgers and coffee, finds him on a ladder adding paint to the concrete wall around the corner of the kitchen sink. The walls surrounding what he's making into the open kitchen area are made of brick and he wants to keep it that way, evidence of build and structure. Some roots can't be erased.

Nearly all time Oliver doesn't spend as the Arrow or with his lawyers is spent here, refurbishing the empty loft. Gives him something to do, keeps his hands and mind busy, from thinking of things that's out of his hands… and things he wants, but can't have.

"Thought you might be hungry," Felicity says, stopping a few feet from the ladder. "You've been at this since morning, huh?"

He looks at the big block of white paint. He's bringing light back into his life the ways he can.

"Pretty much."

"Thought so. How about you come down and join me before the fries get soggy?"

"Sure," he says easily.

They sit down on a large sheet he's used to cover up broken windows at night. Gets dust on his pants, doesn't care. He's got her here with him and it's quiet and calm and _nice_. He doesn't want anything to disturb it; it's not often he gets little slices of life like this. He wants to keep every one, nestle them close inside and let them keep him alive. Let them remind him what he's fighting for.

After they've eaten more than half the food, Oliver looks from the window to Felicity. It occurs to him it's probably around noon, those hours right before and after midday when the hours get hard to tell apart. Outside, normal people are going to their normal jobs. It reminds him…

"Do you really have time to be here?" He turns to her from facing the window.

"Absolutely," she replies, drawing strawberry shake from a straw. "Good thing about being in charge of your own division is getting to schedule your own hours. Which you should know all about, Mr. I-Never-Arrived-Before-Nine-In-My-Life."

"_Hey_. I arrived before nine. … once or twice."

"Yeah, probably because you went straight from the Foundry to the office."

He smiles, thinking she's right. She usually is. He grabs the last of his fries and looks at her drinking from her milkshake, golden light flushing her from behind. His heart aches, throbs.

_She's so beautiful_.

Any other girl fades in comparison. They're all distant stars; she is the sun.

"When I get QC back," he says. "You should keep doing what you're doing now."

She looks at him, lips slurping the last of the milkshake before settling the empty mug down on the dusty floor. The mug scrapes a little against the concrete floor, a hollow sound.

"I'd like to. I really would. But we don't know the department will still be there if you get QC back."

'If' is a blow to his confidence whose pain he doesn't enjoy, but he covers it right up, moves on.

"I'll make sure it is," he promises.

And she does that little small smile he's beginning to understand the meaning of, when she's grateful but doesn't know how to express it without tripping herself up on her words. His jagged trap is his mind; hers is words.

A mind that thinks about how glad he is she's here, even though she's _with _someone else_._ Friendship remains. He only thinks about it a moment, then asks her what he's been wanting to ask her for weeks now.

"Hey. What's your favorite Disney movie?"

Felicity looks at him like he can't be serious, but she also laughs a little, which makes him believe she doesn't think he's recently hit his head. Probably.

"My favorite Disney movie? Really?"

"When you were a kid," Oliver elucidates. "There's got to have been one movie you liked more than others."

Felicity purses her lips, thinks for a moment. "Anastasia." She shifts, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs; his eyes follow them. "What about you?"

"Aladdin."

She laughs, the sweetest sound he's heard all day.

"Oh, come on," she smiles. "The boy who wants to be the prince? Heart of gold, tough circumstances but still wants to do the right thing?"

"What's wrong with that?" His eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Nothing at all. I think we should be allowed to like the things we like for whatever reason we want to, as long as we understand it." Felicity grabs their coffee out of the holder, hands him his. "It's just. I would have guessed Robin Hood. Maybe Lion King."

He warms his hand around the coffee. Runs through his mental movie catalogue; the latter movie comes back to him in vivid images.

"That's the first movie I ever cried at," he blurts. "Tommy was with me. He cried too."

As if that makes it better.

It's an embarrassing thing to admit for any guy, crying, but with her he never feels those tiny stings of admission, telling him he's revealed something that makes him less of whoever he's supposed to be. Not with her. Felicity sees that part of him so clearly; he wishes he could see himself from her eyes for just one day.

"Mine was An American Tail," she admits, lips leaning against the coffee lid. "The first movie I ever cried to. Cats scared me for months after that."

He smiles at the image of a small, pony-tailed girl cowering at a random street corner at the sight of a stray cat.

"You're not still afraid of cats, are you?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I even had a cat. Not here in Starling City… but before. I had to give her away."

He hears the trace in her voice of dulled out sadness. Wants to ask her more about the cat, but her eyes dip down to her lap, the shape of her lip dragging down instead of up, which keeps him from doing so. Takes a long drink of coffee, thinks, another time.

She turns from her own mood, facing him, eyes large and shining and the sight of those clear blue eyes nearly blinds him, every time. It can be so hard facing those eyes, the look of someone who understands and accepts you when you don't even _like_ yourself.

Then Felicity's phone rings, a sound Oliver's come to know well. He remains sitting as she puts her coffee down and stands, answering her phone. It's only a short conversation; she has to go back to work.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, grabbing her bag and jacket.

"Don't be."

He sounds calm, betraying how he feels inside. He can feel their lives splitting apart; he keeps holding on to what brings them together. Which will always be more than just the Arrow.

It's actually her who, after she's pulled on the jacket, turns to face him. She swipes away a long blonde tress and Oliver can't stop himself from thinking, it must be really soft.

"You said the Lion King was the first movie you cried to," she says. "What's the other?"

Oliver's features soften. "Not saying."

"Well. Then you're going to have to show me one day."

His eyes glint with hope; one day sounds like a promise to look forward to.


	4. Chapter 4

A week before Christmas Felicity arrives down into the lair, empty save for the whirring sound coming from the back. Oliver's sharpening arrowheads.

"Where's Dig?" she asks. "And Roy?"

"Diggle's home decorating. Gave Roy the night off."

He doesn't say it, but Felicity knows why. Thea's been back in Starling two months now and Roy's been seeing her as much as he can and she allows.

Felicity looks at Oliver, realizing, not for the first time, that everyone else has someone to go to, to see when the day is over.

Except Oliver.

He still has the loft, but right now it's being restored after water damage. Air movers and dehumidifiers will decorate the place through Christmas. And even though she doesn't celebrate it herself, Felicity knows what Christmas means in the heart of people that do. The thought of Oliver spending his alone in the lair hits her sharply.

"Hey," she says. "Do you want to pizza?"

He looks at her; she winces.

"I mean, do you want to have pizza? Pizza and a movie. I can download something. Or, if you prefer to swing it on the legal side, I have a Netflix account…"

He looks around at the empty quietness. The thought of another night here alone is one he's grown used to, but still, it hardly brings him any comfort. When he's alone the silence gets louder and old forgotten voices start whispering. Ghosts named Regret and Guilt and their steady friend Despair visit all too often. Some of the worst despair isn't loud and boisterous; it's the quiet little moments that do you in.

Tonight she's offering him a reprieve from all that.

So he says, "Sure. I'd like that."

She tells him great, he offers buying them pizza while she sets up the rest. He's back in less than twenty minutes, to find her having set up a mini movie theatre. She's angled a 40" monitor at the couch she insisted they put in the lair months ago, found some empty boxes and covered them with a white cloth to make it seem like a table. And where did she get the wine from?

"Don't think I don't know about the stash someone's been keeping down here," she tells him, putting out two measuring glasses from their little lab to drink from.

"Sara must have brought some down from the club," Oliver comments, putting the pizza cartons down on the makeshift table. It wiggles and he's careful not to push against it, make it fall over.

"I'll have to thank her next time we see her." Felicity brings up a movie selection screen on the monitor. "Have you heard from her lately?"

Oliver sits down in the couch. "A month ago. She and Nyssa were dealing with a drug cartel in Congo."

Felicity's lips pout as she gives a little nod. "At least she gets to travel a lot."

Oliver's heartbeat drums up a delicious beat when Felicity sits down next to him in the couch. She reaches for the carton, removes the pizza saver, and it occurs to him.

"Hey," he starts carefully. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

He winces realizing how it came out. Feels heat rush to his cheeks, the notion of being a fool slapping him mentally.

"I meant…"

"It's alright," she chuckles, reaching for a pizza slice. "Work's at a manageable level at the moment – I actually have the full weekend off, can you believe that? – and Ray's out of town over Christmas, so I'm enjoying my time doing exactly what I want. Not that I didn't before, but… you know. Priorities." Mutters, "Got three piles of laundry at home."

"Which is why you'd rather be here."

"I'm thinking you're starting to get me," Felicity jokes, before the old familiar Disney title turns the screen blue.

They end up watching Aladdin and Anastasia back to back.

She only finishes half her pizza; he eats the rest. Clashes a bit with the wine, but neither seem to mind. It's really nice, simply sitting here in a couch, pretending like they're not trying to make a living room of a high-technological stronghold, that they're not surrounded by computers set to alert them when prisoners break out, when police officers get a Code 3.

It's a small kind of wonderful, pretending to be part of the normal world.

Throughout, Oliver watches Felicity more than the movies. The way her face lights up anticipating a joke she already recalls before it happens on screen, the way she smiles, shifts before the dramatic scenes happen. She sits perfectly still for most, legs folded underneath her, using the time right after romantic scenes to reach for cold leftover crusts, swallowing them down with wine that leaves her lips a deeper shade of red.

He keeps quiet but treasures everything. It overwhelms him how she affects him, stifles his breath, how all she has to do is move a little and let their feet touch and it's like electricity tickling its way through his body. He's been holding on to the anchors of grounded reality for so long that he's gotten used to bring down deviations like enemies.

But then she moves a little closer to him and it's like his world stops.

His neck becomes rigid, eyes focused on the screen. Watches Aladdin chase Abu, but is highly aware of the way their thighs brush together, how her weight shifts when she reaches for her wine glass. The way she pulls a throw over her lap, while he? Sits upright like he's been slapped.

Felicity doesn't comment. Figures it's the years away from Starling City that made him that way.

"We can share if you'd like." She holds the throw up and adds, with a smile, "Come on, I only bite on Saturdays."

He nods, thinking he's an idiot if he'll pass this up.

He lets himself slide a little further back in the couch, thighs brushing against hers as she folds the throw over his lap. He watches her small hands, nail polish a bright orange, considers how those delicate hands can bring men to their knees virtually.

She can bring him down with a lot less.

Then Felicity's phone rings and she leaves the couch to answer it. Oliver listens; it's impossible not to. Hears Felicity say Ray's name and the smile in her voice, a hushed conversation asking him if he got there alright, how he is. It's painful listening to Felicity talking to someone playing the role in her life he wishes he could have.

He sits there, waiting for her to finish the phone call and tries not thinking things like, how different her life could be without him. How she could commit herself fully to her role in the company, not having to deal with long nights with Team Arrow followed by being at work a few hours after sunrise.

A life with someone to love. She could still have it.

Just not with him.

He hears the phone call being finished in low tones, tries forgetting the words they say instantly. Means to take a sip of the wine, ends up emptying the glass.

Felicity returns to the couch.

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?" he say quickly, aware he missed her first question.

"Would you like some more wine?"

"Sure."

Absolutely. Wine would be good.

For the rest of the evening Oliver sits there, trying to relax and not jolt to pieces every time her leg moves against his, when he feels her hand beneath the throw curl and uncurl to stay warm. He wants to reach out, bring it into his. Hold tight and never let go.

But she's not with him and nothing is_ right_ so he never does.

Instead he sits there, for the first time in his life letting himself be content just sitting next to a woman he loves and let her every small smile heartwarm him.

He doesn't know how long it will last; he savors every one.


	5. Chapter 5

"Keep your arm straight!"

Oliver knocks the bō against Roy's elbow. The younger guy grits his teeth, his jaw becoming a line as sharp as his attitude.

"It'd be a whole lot easier if someone didn't keep punching me," Roy grits out, trying to keep his focus on his red bow and the target at the other end of the Foundry.

"_Focus_."

As Roy takes a deep breath and curses mentally, Oliver's own focus slips. His eyes travel to where Felicity's seated behind a triad of computer monitors; her virtual empire. The screens cast her face in an ambient glow. Down here, among all the darkness, she's the brightest thing.

A red arrow slices through the air, bringing Oliver's eyes back to target. Roy hits two inches south of bullseye and grinds his teeth down together, shaking his head.

"I'm not getting any better," he scowls.

"It's not so bad," Oliver tells him. "Roy, you're making progress. We just got to keep practicing. Hey—give it a few more months and maybe you'll even be decent."

Oliver smirks and Roy shakes his head again.

They continue like that, Oliver instructing Roy, reminding him to lift his elbow, let the arrow fly at the drop of his breath. At one point Felicity stands from behind the monitors, grabs a bag and disappears into the bathroom. Oliver doesn't think about it; the Foundry's become a large working space they all fit into. He doesn't notice until twenty minutes later, rearranging targets at the other end of the room, when Felicity reappears and stops the air in his chest.

Roy lets out a clear whistle. "Looking like a million dollars, Blondie."

"Only a million?" she asks, smoky eyes soft and twinkling.

He takes in her black dress, side-swept hair and lips, the color of murder.

He shrugs. "And a half."

Felicity mocks being offended, as Roy smiles and dodges an attack she never launches. From the back of the room, she notices Oliver moving among the shadows. She can just make him out; he's trying not to look at her.

"Alright, guys," she says, "I'll see you tomorrow. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone, hmm?"

Roy tells her to have fun, stay out late, bring him back a doggy bag. From the back of the room Oliver watches Felicity ascend the stairs, the way her every step echoes with what he's lost.

Truth is, she was never his. She's always been her own.

"Roy," he calls out, getting the younger guy's attention. "Line them up. _Again_."

Roy sighs, nearly pouts. "Do we really have to keep doing this, man? We've been at it since noon."

"If you want to become better, then yes. We keep going for as long as we need to."

Sighing, Roy lines up another shot.

* * *

><p>It's another hour before an alert goes off in the system. The computers, a system Felicity built, lets Oliver know there's a break-out happening in Iron Heights right now.<p>

"Blood's minions," Roy comments when he rounds up on Oliver's side.

Oliver nods. "The city was foolish to put that many members of the Church of Blood in one space. They organized and are probably breaking out right now—just like Diggle predicted."

He doesn't tell Roy to suit up, doesn't have to. Wordlessly he moves over, grabs his bow and changes into his suit. While Roy does the same, Oliver picks up his phone and calls Felicity's number.

"Oliver, I'm at a dinner," she hisses, voice lowered. He hears background laughter on the other end. Glasses clinking, the sound of a good time.

He knows she's having dinner with Ray, is fully aware of the conflict within him that recognizes what he's doing is a dick move, while also feeling slightly gleeful about it.

"It's an emergency," he tells her. "Diggle's busy with ARGUS. We need you here."

* * *

><p>Oliver and Roy arrive near Iron Heights twenty minutes later, blaring down the highway exit on motorcycles.<p>

The prison is trying to get the situation under control, but like their success rate of actually keeping prisoners in prison, they're failing spectacularly. Sirens and lights blare from the prison; search teams are scattered all around the dark surrounding streets. Drawing in a breath of the cold January air, Oliver activates comms.

"Felicity, we're approaching the south entrance. How many prisoners are still on the loose?"

No answer.

Oliver waits two seconds and taps against the comm device in his hood. "Felicity?"

Still, silence. The quiet echo of stillness.

Oliver curses in Russian, grinds his back teeth together. Pauses his bike, looks over at Roy.

"We're going in anyway. Come on."

The two of them work better as a unit now than they did a few months ago. Together they make fast work of locating the escaped prisoners; most are unarmed and easy to catch. They feel foolish scouring the area around Iron Heights, running around looking for escaped prisoners in the dark. Oliver tries reaching Felicity over comms throughout, but to no reply, and for each time she never answers anger builds inside him more and more.

* * *

><p>By the time they get back to the lair he's fuming.<p>

He storms down the stairs, gripping the bow so tight it might break, too upset to care if it does.

Diggle's seated in Felicity's usual spot by the computers, turns the chair around when Oliver sets foot on Foundry floor.

"Where is she?" he demands.

"Oliver, you need to hear me out."

"I _need_ to speak with Felicity about priorities. Right now."

Diggle stands up from the chair. "Oliver!"

Diggle possesses so much intrinsic authority, the kind that doesn't need to raise its voice to be heard. So when he actually does it's like being hit by an audible wall; everyone pays attention. Even Oliver slows down.

Diggle takes two steps toward him, arms folded against his chest. Stares him down.

"Oliver, the reason Felicity didn't get back to you is because she couldn't. She was in a car accident."

Oliver stops. Cold panic makes winter rivers of his veins.

"Blondie was _what_?" Roy asks, slowly walking up to Diggle.

"I got the call twenty minutes ago. She's being held in Starling General Hospital. She got rear-ended in an intersection on her way over here—sustained a concussion and a broken rib. She'll be alright, but they still wanted to keep her overnight for observation."

Oliver feels a rush through his body, from his feet right up into his head. His sight goes dizzy for a moment. All the anger simmers out of him like a rinse, and he has to support his own weight, both hands against the examination table. Even with closed eyes he's seeing stars.

"I only came here to let you know," Diggle says, before walking to the stairs. "I'm heading over there to see her."

"I want to come too," Roy says, all but throwing his bow on the nearest table.

Oliver draws in a deep breath, tries getting a hold of himself. Opens his eyes; all he sees is white.

After a few seconds he straightens and slowly turns around. Drags a hand down his mouth.

"I need a minute."

Diggle nods. Gets it.

Before him and Roy leave, Oliver calls out.

"Diggle." Waits for him to turn. "How come they called you?"

"I'm listed as Felicity's emergency contact. Her and Lyla are mine."

Diggle and Roy leave Oliver standing in the Foundry, a tempest of raging emotion he doesn't know what to do with, how to let out. He starts walking around, but it's less than thirty seconds before he grabs the nearest glass case with both hands and smashes it against the floor. Shards of glass fly all over the floor like pieces of self-illusion and promises he'll never be able to make.

It hits him then, a violent pang of guilt that makes him nauseous. Felicity was hurt on her way to _help _them. She was out, enjoying herself, enjoying a normal life, one Oliver's wanted to build for himself for months… and known longer than that he'll likely never have.

But just because he can't have one doesn't mean she shouldn't have to.

She almost sacrificed her own life, her own happiness, for the sake of the Arrow. Not for the first time, but…

No more.

* * *

><p>Oliver visits Felicity in the hospital at the time of night when shadows start coming alive.<p>

He easily slips past security. Keeps his head down, making his way through the halls quietly. Tries not letting the smell get to him, the one that can always be found in hospitals: like people trying to cover up something bad with something worse.

Eventually he finds her room. It's black inside, but still he looks through the window in the door, waits until his eyes adjust and learns to use what little light there is. Sees her face resting against the white pillow, her expression soft and unguarded. Safe. His chest heaves at the sight, recalling how upset he was earlier. She was trying to get to them, help them… and ended up here.

It has to stop.

He slides into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Finds a chair and puts it on the side of her bed, sits down and waits. Watches her eyes move behind her eyelids, counts the rise and falls of her chest. Tries not staring at the gash in her forehead.

When she opens her eyes he barely dares to breathe. She blinks a slow few times before her eyes find his.

"Oliver…?" She swallows, licks her dry lips.

"Hi."

His voice is so soft, it makes her wonder if she's still dreaming.

He grabs the glass of water from the table, leans over and holds it as she drinks from the straw. She blinks into the darkness, eyes adjusting as Oliver sits a little straighter on the chair.

"I needed to see you," he says quietly.

"Well…" She pushes herself up a little in bed. "I've got a headache and I'm not allowed any aspirins." Adds with a moue, "So my head hurts."

He smiles at that. Lets the smile soften his face, holds onto the warm feeling. He knows he'll need to find a way to make it last.

"I came here to see how you were." He holds her gaze. Blinks, adding, "And to make an end."

Felicity looks at him a few seconds that seem to stretch, make time seem longer than it actually is. He keeps his eyes steady, watching her reaction change. She smiles a little as disbelief fills her up.

"Are you going somewhere?" she asks.

"No," he replies. Shakes his head a little. Licks his lower lip, looks down. Grabs a tight hold of his heart and courage and faces her again.

"Tonight you were injured on your way to help the Arrow. If it hadn't been for me, you would not be here."

Her eyebrows narrow; she knows exactly where this is going.

"Those are _my_ choices, Oliver. You have no right taking them from me."

He goes on, voice growing harder, colder, warm water turning to ice. "Next time, you might not make it to the hospital. I refuse to see that day happen."

Felicity narrows her eyes at him even further. Blinks back the burning sting of tears, lips parting and hot breath coming out at the speed of her rapid heart.

"Oliver, don't be an idiot. It's still my life, _my _choice. You don't get to put the brakes on this."

"I do. I refuse accepting your help anymore."

His voice is even, too even. It's the voice of the Bratva Captain, the man he became after the island. The man who still exists inside him, who he'll have to walk beside the rest of his life. That aspect turns him cold – not unfeeling but effective – fanned by the conviction that what he's doing is the right thing, keeping her safe, from himself if he has to. Give her a chance at the life she can have without him.

When he stands from the chair he looks anywhere but at her. Hates how much of a coward he is, lets the hate for himself twist the rusty knife in his heart that nearly chokes him. Repeats the mantra: he's doing the right thing. He wants to keep her safe. Even if it's not with him, he wants her to be happy.

"Oliver," she calls before he walks out the room, emotion caught in her throat. "You promised me. You promised me I wasn't going to lose you."

He stops by the door. Turns around and faces her, eyes glistening, but wearing a soft smile he needs to keep through this murder. He'd rather kill himself, kill what little soul and heart he has left, than see her hurt again.

"I'll always remember the first day I met you," he tells her. "I almost didn't get there. A traffic jam blocked the street and nearly made me change my mind. But if I'd never brought you that laptop, I never would have met the most remarkable woman I know."

His eyes shine like lights on a lake surface. Felicity's caught between the pure, raw honesty of that look and being so angry with him she wants to claw those eyes out. He walks to the door again, but her voice stops him.

"If I'll never lose you, how come you're still walking out that door?"

He stops. Takes a deep breath, turns around and faces her. It hurts, but she deserves to know.

"Because I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."

Without looking back, Oliver walks out of the hospital room.


	6. Chapter 6

Without Felicity Oliver becomes the Arrow.

Has a huge fight with Diggle, that ends with the latter storming out of the lair saying he won't return until Oliver's found his goddamn head again. Until then he'll be at ARGUS working with the Suicide Squad. Maybe he won't come back.

Roy stays, but Oliver knows that's mostly because he has nowhere else to go. Him and Thea aren't what they once were; she's seeing someone else and Roy too needs something to drown himself in to get over the loss of the woman he loves. At this point the only thing they share are the stars.

Oliver keeps hearing about Felicity, of course. It's impossible not to.

When keeping up with news about Queen Consolidated her name is frequently mentioned. He at least has to give Ray credit for that; he gives credit where credit's due.

He admits to himself he's a strong man, but not strong enough to let her go.

One night, writhing in a pit of self-loathing, Oliver drives by her townhouse. The helmet and dark clothing help him stay incognito as he drives down her street on his bike, slowing down across the street from her house. Cutting the engine, Oliver waits for a sight of her through the tall living room windows. Finally sees her walking past, wine glass in hand, rosy-cheeked and smiling. Only her Mini is parked outside, but that doesn't mean she's alone. He has no way of knowing that. No right, either.

With a yearning look at her happiness without him he finally drives away. Keeps driving until the sun rises across the city horizon, painting the sky in cold pink blotches. Tries keeping his vision on the road but all he can see is her eyes.

He stops going to the loft and lets it fall to darkness. Returns to sleeping in the Foundry. Keeps putting away the bad guys with Roy's help, lets being the Arrow consume him and little by little keeps burying Oliver Queen, the man behind the hood, within the Arrow. Focuses on his purpose to keep the city safe and tells himself that's all he needs to keep him alive.

The sleepless nights, the pain in his chest no breathing exercise alleviates, all of that is just the price heroes have to pay.

* * *

><p>Diggle visits Felicity in her townhouse on an easy Saturday afternoon.<p>

He knocks on her door and holds up two beers and burgers when she opens. Easily clad in sweatpants and a fuchsia top, she smiles and lets him in. He's always welcome in her home.

The spring sunlight thickly shines into her living room, casting everything in an ethereal glow. She pulls away the pink yoga mat and replaces it with her living room table where John puts the food down before sitting in her couch. Felicity, unceremoniously and comfortably, props her legs underneath herself in the ruby-red sofa. They eat, talk about life. She asks him about Lyla and their daughter; he tells her story after story about new fatherhood through an unstopping smile.

Felicity asks if he wants another beer, but he declines. He's driving and wants to keep his mind clear. He waits as she gets herself another one before wiping a hand down his mouth and raising his chin a little.

"Honestly, I wasn't really expecting to find you at home," he says. "Thought you'd be with…"

"No," Felicity says from the top of the bottle. "Not as much, anymore."

John hears it, the pause that comes after a sentence, before taking a new breath. The space in one's mind where thoughts and silence collide.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asks carefully.

Felicity's eyes soften. She's watched John Diggle take down seven masked and armed soldiers; in her living room he's the big brother she never had.

"Ray's asked me to move in with him."

John carefully watches her expression, the way her eyes shine and vibrate. That look alone tells him more than she'll ever need to.

Still, he asks. "And what did you tell him?"

"That I needed time."

John sits back in her couch. Thinks about life, about choices, ones that have already been made and ones they have yet to make. How priorities shift when people enter your life; how he'd die in a battlefield for Lyla and their daughter if it meant saving them.

He leans across the table and puts his hand on her arm. She looks at him from clear eyes.

"I'm your family," he tells her. "Don't you ever doubt that."

Felicity blinks slowly, nodding a little as the words create a warm hum inside her.

"I know. And I love you for that too. But you got a family of your own, now…"

He sits a little straighter. Behind them the sun hides behind a cloud, making the light and everything else seem a little clearer.

"Is that what this is about?" he asks. "Wanting a family?"

Felicity slowly shakes her head. "No. I think it's about not being with someone just because it makes sense."

He watches Felicity curl her legs up underneath her, bringing her closer to herself. She takes a deep breath and there's a sadness about her he wishes he could crush like a stone instead of letting it drag her down.

"You should love the people you're with, right John?"

"Yeah," he tells her. "You should."

Felicity turns her face, cheek against her arm. John looks at her, then his eyes fall a little. He understands. But he's her friend. He won't tell her what to do; he knows her well enough to know she knows that already.

So for the rest of the afternoon he just sits there with her, watches a movie and helps her take a little break from life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** We're now halfway through. Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p>The sound of rain tip-tapping its way down a leak in the ceiling precedes Diggle entering the Foundry.<p>

He walks down the stairs on even steps, listening to the sound of arrow's being flung off a bow. Oliver's practicing. No surprise there. It's not like he allows himself much else these days.

Maybe that's about to change.

Diggle knows Oliver Queen's still there, in him, fighting to get through. Survive. It will always be his greatest strength, his humanity. He only needs to realize that for himself.

He knows Oliver's noticed him arriving, so Diggle doesn't greet him. Only walks around the lair a moment, observing everything that's changed since he's been here last, mostly noticing how much hasn't. It's a little less tidy. But the computers stand exactly the same; it's like Oliver hasn't touched them. Maybe he hasn't.

"You're still sleeping on a cot," Diggle comments, looking at the simple bed in the back of the vicinity.

"Residual habit." Oliver loads another arrow. "Never get too comfortable in any place for too long."

He almost hears Diggle's sigh. "Then what's all this work for? If you don't plan on staying?"

"Gives me something to do."

They both know he's fibbing, but Diggle's getting sick of this bravado. Maybe because he's been there himself, in that place where everything's become so grey you start inventing your own lines of black and white to color in the world.

"I suppose that's the only thing you plan on doing these days? Be the Arrow?"

"I sleep when I need it, too."

Diggle shakes his head, arms folded against his chest. He was hoping he wouldn't have to do this, but fine. One of them has to be the grown-up here.

"You know something, Oliver? You got that hood pulled down so low you've lost sight of the bigger picture here." Diggle walks a little further into the room. "You spend your time down here in the darkness, thinking what you're doing—your cause—is more important than anything. Except what you're really doing is hiding. You're only half the man you could be."

Oliver marches up and stops a few feet in front of Diggle. Expression stern and cold, intimidating, but Diggle knows better. He knows that expression well, of a man who's holding himself together by the seams of his own skin because if he lets go even just a little, what he's trying to protect himself from will do him in.

Diggle faces him unflinchingly. "It's about damn time you pulled that hood back."

He stares Oliver down, watches the spiky edges of his anger simmer out of him. Makes him wonder how long he's spent, being that angry, pretending he's being driven by purpose when it's loss of direction, a true purpose, he's been missing.

But he doesn't feel sorry for him. Diggle knows he can come back from it.

"You've lost perspective, Oliver. Convinced yourself that what you're doing is the only way to protect the people you care about. Save the city. But it's not, man. We all need something to protect. Gives us a reason to be who we want to be. But there's better ways going about it than shutting everyone out."

Diggle makes sure Oliver's listening, knows he is when he lowers his bow and puts it back in the glass case.

"I'm not like you, Diggle." Oliver stands still in front of the case. "I don't have a family to fight for. Not anymore."

Oliver's thoughts slip and drift like clouds on his mind's sky. Thinks of a buried father, mother. A sister betrayed by her world, now trying to find herself through darkness and anger. Other people, too.

"Oliver, family's not about blood. Family becomes the people we choose to keep in our lives. Choose to love, to protect. And it's worth fighting for. Every time."

Diggle takes a deep breath, watching Oliver walk from the glass case over to the computer monitors. Looks like he thinks about sitting down, but doesn't. Not in that chair. Instead he turns, sitting down on the other side of the exam table. Rubs a hand down his face. Oliver can hear his demons try to win him over, but listens to that other voice instead, telling him there's always light at the end of the tunnel. And the only way out is through.

Diggle's voice softens a little. "Life goes on, Oliver. It doesn't care if you're a hero or not. Or if you're only human."

"And the trick is figuring out how to be both at the same time?"

"No. It's realizing you always were."

Oliver sits still, lets the meaning of it all sink into him. He's spent so much time down here, in the suit, that he's forgotten what it feels like, to have someone who knows you and isn't afraid of confronting you. _Stings_. Riles him up like air blown on a fire. But he knows he needs it, and that's why he eventually lets out a long breath he's been holding locked in his chest for weeks.

It takes a while but then Oliver's brow softens, eyes regaining clarity looking up at Diggle.

"Lyla tell you to come here?"

Diggle huffs out a breath, smiles a little. "Might say she encouraged it. Besides, ARGUS was getting tired hearing from your sorry ass so often."

Oliver nods, a tame smile remaining as he looks down to the floor. Diggle wonders if it's overkill, figures, what the hell. He needs to hear it.

"I'm lucky to have someone like that, who loves me back. It's not always easy but it's always worth it. I'd die for her, man. For both of them. Know she would for me, too."

Hands between his knees, Oliver looks up at him. "Aren't you scared you're going to lose them?"

"Sure. But me and Lyla have been through enough together to know that, that day is going to come whether we like it or not. At the end of the day, if it comes down to being scared or living without her… I'll choose her. Every time.

Oliver doesn't meet his eyes; Diggle takes that as his cue and starts moving for the stairs.

"Diggle?" Oliver calls before he ascends the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Oliver looks at him, firm and serious and real, and Diggle nods. Then he turns and heads up the stairs.

He knows Oliver will one day get to where he wants to be. But he also knows something else that Oliver's still learning: everyone needs a little help getting there.


	8. Chapter 8

On a late February evening Queen Consolidated hosts a benefit to raise money for a youth center.

Ray Palmer hosts the benefit, makes an eloquent speech about the future and hope. Looks at Felicity at the end of the speech… who he arrived at the benefit with.

Oliver's also there. He went to show he's serious; he stills wants his family's company back. The defiance of showing up when Ray's there is just a truculent bonus.

Oliver spends the evening mingling, his least favorite pastime since he was old enough to wear a suit at family hosted dinners. Breezes around the room, makes sure to talk with the newer board member, compliment his much younger wife, agree that one can never really own enough Maseratis, goes on smiling and looking the part he should have been, but lost. Recognizes that every word coming out of his mouth is absolute horseshit, adds it to the neverending pile of Reasons To Hate Himself and lets the show go on.

He tries not letting his eyes drift to where the current CEO walks around the room, looking right at home. Or how beautiful the woman he arrived with is.

He fails at both.

As the hours drag on, Ray sits down at Oliver's table. Hands him a drink: Scotch, a little evidence of research. Oliver holds the round glass and lets the liquid slosh about, only taking a sip.

Felicity's on the dance floor, dancing with an older board member whose disabled wife can't dance with him. Her dress is layers of midnight blue; she moves like a piece of the night.

The band plays a perfect Waltz for piano in A flat major and it's all too grand to feel real. Best way to get through these things, Ray thinks. Everything's a stage.

He watches Oliver effectively scan the crowd, notices how his gaze keeps hopping back to one blonde marvel in particular. He can't blame him. Felicity Smoak is the highlight of the room.

Ray looks at Oliver. "Do you think it's impossible to do what we do and be with someone at the same time?"

Oliver keeps his eyes out on the floor. "It makes it harder."

Ray watches the dancing couples on the floor. Couples moving like human waves.

"I don't think life was ever meant to be easy," Ray says. " I always thought it was meant to be worth living." Drinks from his glass, lets it burn and sizzle down his throat. "I don't think life without something—someone—worth living for is really a life at all. When you find the right person, all the long hours, the hardship… it's all worth it. Because without them. Who are we?"

Oliver says nothing, watches him from a steady gaze. If this is laying all cards on the table, he's got a few of his own to play.

"I'm hardly an expert," Oliver tells him. "All I know is, you got to be lucky enough to meet the right one. And when you do… the right woman doesn't have to be won. She's above all that. She makes her own choices. All men like us can do is try to keep up."

Ray hums. "How true."

He thanks Oliver for his company, stands and finds new company in the form of an older board member standing next to a painting depicting a scene from the Creek War, commissioned by someone from the side of those who won. Oliver's eyes drift to the other side of the room, where Felicity's talking with a woman in a wheelchair, the wife of the man she danced with earlier. The woman shines of old glamor. She smiles and keeps glancing over his way…

Oliver's surprised when they start making their way toward him. A nervous sweep jolts through his stomach; he forces himself to sit steady. He hasn't talked to Felicity in weeks…

"And this young man," the woman tells Felicity, "gave me my first ballroom dance after my dear husband was elected board member."

Oliver stares at the woman in the wheelchair. She's wearing her age well, an old beauty, but she's at least thirty years older than him.

She catches the look on his face and smiles. "You don't remember, do you Oliver?"

"I'm afraid not, Mrs…"

"Greenberg. It's fine, I don't expect you to remember. After all, you weren't that old." She indicates to the height of the table. "Perhaps yea high? Your parents dragged you with them to a gala, not too different from this one, and boy, were you bored out of your damn mind. After you tore down a tablecloth I asked you to dance with me, just so you'd have something to do. I think you said yes mostly because you didn't want to get in any more trouble with your dear old mother."

Felicity's looks between them, amused.

"That does sound like something I would have done," Oliver admits, feeling a little heat rise along his neck.

"Mmm. Stepped on my toes a little, too. But that's alright, you were just a kid. Unlike my Hubert, who trampled on Miss Smoak's feet—and that old bastard's been dancing at events like these half his life."

Oliver's slightly bewildered, looking between Mrs. Greenberg and Felicity, who shrugs a little.

His eyes stop at her. He'll gladly live through hours of embarrassing childhood stories if he gets to hold onto the light in her eyes a little longer.

"Now," Mrs. Greenberg says. "The band's playing a competent Skater's Waltz. Absolutely _lovely _to dance to."

"Are you waiting for me to ask you, Mrs. Greenberg?" Oliver asks, a hint of amusement prickling through his voice.

"Oh, no. I'm waiting for you to ask _her_."

Oliver looks from Mrs. Greenberg up to Felicity; her eyes are very white looking down at him. But it's not fear. It's not anger. It's hesitance, a feeling he understands all too well.

"Well I'll be damned," Mrs. Greenberg says. "I'm not asking you two to copulate on the dance floor. Just dance!"

Oliver shakes his head and stands from the chair. Felicity watches him extend his hand slowly. Mirth plays in his eyes and the mist of her doubt evaporates.

"May I have this dance?" he asks properly, to the satisfied nod of Mrs. Greenberg down beside them.

Felicity rolls her eyes but still, she smiles.

"Sure."

They walk onto the dance floor and for a moment, the two of them stop. The weight of missing weeks and separation washes up between them, creating an ocean of missing time and words they should have said.

Then Felicity looks into his eyes and follows her heart.

They slowly fall into it. Their hands fit together like anchor and shore before they slowly step into pace, feet moving lightly across the floor. She falls into rhythm with him and feels heat emanate from his body onto hers; it's impossible for her not to wonder if it would be like this, to be with him.

Oliver doesn't say a word. Doesn't want to ruin this, however long he has left of holding her close. Thinks, he could spend the rest of his life here in this moment.

They end up dancing two songs and it's the closest Oliver's felt to walking on clouds in years. They stand next to each other a little too long after the second song fades and an upbeat waltz sonorously kicks in. He looks down at her, she shakes her head and so he follows her to the side of the room, always drawn into her atmosphere.

"You want something to drink?" he asks her, the polite thing to do.

"Mhmm. Sure."

When he's away, Mrs. Greenberg rolls up beside Felicity. She smiles in the way of a woman who, instead of letting the cat eat the canary, freed the bird.

"Watching the two of you is like watching a fire burn."

Felicity blushes, is about to thank her, but when Oliver returns Mrs. Greenberg rolls away again.

Oliver hands Felicity champagne, noticing she has a hard time meeting his eyes and it's not two seconds before he thinks he's done something wrong. Did he hurt her when they danced? Maybe he held her too tight, turned her too quickly, or…

He sees it then, the faint rosy color on her cheeks. He's astounded, wonders why… until he understands, when she lifts her eyes and looks into his.

_Nothing's over_.

Oliver blinks, taking a mental snapshot of the way she looks at him right now. Files it away in his mental catalogue of things he wants to be the last he ever sees. If it's all he can have, he wants to keep this moment, let it burn him away from the inside out.

This time it's him, who with hooded hazy eyes says, "Thank you."

His small smile is like thaw on a winter's day.

And she smiles like the sun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **I want to apologize in advance for likely not being able to update tomorrow. I'll be helping a friend move into her new apartment and my internet connection will be spotty at best. However, this part is more than twice as long as the one before it, so hopefully that makes up for something.

Thanks again to everyone for reading and reviewing. :)

* * *

><p>It's bombs that finally do it.<p>

Ray Palmer received news of the attack on the Queen Consolidated building soon after the first bomb went off. Now he's driving through the streets breaking probably every traffic rule there's a law for in Starling City to get there.

He's not alone in the car. Felicity didn't ask to come; she just did. She has a laptop in her knee bringing up plans of the company building, a trace program running, things Ray doesn't know what she intends to do with but she seems to know how to use like the back of her hand.

They pull up streetside a block away from QC where Felicity recognizes Diggle's van instantly. Sees a familiar younger man standing next to him, in a black and red suit, gets out of Ray's car before he's even parked it. Runs over to them, blonde hair whipping against her back and shoulders.

"Blondie," Roy exhales, smiling when he sees her. "Boy are we glad to see you."

"Where is he?" she asks, action mode at once.

"He went in twenty minutes ago," Diggle explains. "He tried reasoning with Drakon, but the guy blew himself to pieces before he could stop him. Blew off the entire top floor, too."

"Bon voyage conference room," Roy whistles.

Felicity takes in Queen Consolidated, the tall glass-walled building she's worked in for years. It's a nightmare: all over the building glass is broken, entire floors are burning, the top floor isn't _there_ anymore. Fire spills out of broken windows like burning anger.

"Why aren't you in there, with him?" Felicity asks, looking between Diggle and Roy before she brings up a digital version of the building in her laptop.

"He sent me to get the hostages out," Roy says. "He got caught facing some ninjas on the floor he's on."

Diggle nods to the dark burning building. "Drakon rigged several floors with explosives—it's only a matter of time before they start going off, one after the other."

Felicity supports her laptop against herself, puts her Bluetooth device in her ear, tries bringing up the feed from the small camera they installed in Oliver's hood months ago. When the image flickers from static to live feed she sees what he sees: a violent close combat and Oliver using his bow to take down two bad guys. She waits, letting him take them down before she turns comms on. They're surrounded by people; real names aren't safe right now.

"Arrow, what floor are you on?"

There's a pause from the other end.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver demands, out of breath.

"Saving you, probably. Where are you?"

There's a short pause before he tells her, "Eleventh floor."

"Drakon has the entire building rigged with explosives. It's only a matter of time before they start going off, so you need to get out of there. Right now."

Oliver reacts and _sprints._ Navigates his way through the unfamiliar hallways, runs past lab areas, different doors. After he rushes through an open glass door it clicks shut behind him, right before he reaches another one that doesn't automatically open. A cool glass door with a small keypad set on the side. He tries inputting every old code he knows, ends up smashing numbers, nothing. He's unable to physically break the door's Plexiglas reinforced with titanium frames. Sealed off both ways, he's trapped.

Another bomb goes off in the distance. The building shakes; small pieces of the roof start falling down around him.

"I might need a little help with this," he says through comms.

Diggle looks to Felicity standing next to Ray, who arrived after talking to law enforcements. The building's tectonics are keeping it up, but all it takes for it to implode - cave in on itself and take everything and everyone left inside with it - is two more bombs going off.

They're running out of time.

"Arrow," Felicity says, "What's the model of the keypad?"

"They're OKP-22s," Ray interjects. Team Arrow looks at him. "I had them installed in the lab area two months ago. They can't be physically broken. He's going to need the right code to get through."

"What the hell's the right code?" Diggle demands.

"I don't know," Ray says. "The code changes biweekly. And—"

"There should be a failsafe," Felicity interrupts. She's brought up the specifications of the model on her laptop. "If you input the keypad's serial number—which you'll find on the bottom—it should display a code."

Oliver tries.

"It's only random letters," he tells her, voice scrambler active.

Felicity nods. "I have a program that can—"

She never gets to finish the sentence.

Another bomb goes off, this time out in the parking lot. Twenty feet from Team Arrow and Ray Palmer. Ray casts himself over Felicity to protect her from the blast, and while he manages to do that, protect her from the pieces of concrete and car parts shattering through the air around them, something else takes damage.

"Oh no, _no._" Felicity pushes Ray off her, looks down at the laptop with a cracked screen. "This is bad. This is not happening."

Diggle appears behind them, Roy close behind. He wipes a hand down his mouth, shakes his head.

"I have to go inside and try to get him out," Diggle says, looking back to the building. "Problem is, even if I manage to get to him I won't be able to get him through that door. I can't decrypt things in my _head_."

He wants to help Oliver, doesn't fear running back into the burning building on the brink of exploding and collapsing, but knows that even if he manages to reach him in time there's no way he'll be able to get Oliver out.

"But I can."

The voice is lighter than three men's, firmer than any of theirs, too.

"Felicity…" Ray walks up to her. "Don't enter that building. I have a car waiting out on the street, a car that will take us all to safety."

Around them, the police and law enforcement have started evacuating the area. It's a chaos of police and reporters trying to get the best shot, but pretty much everyone is moving in the opposite direction of the building, away from here, because they all know it's only a matter of time before it collapses, falls, surrenders to gravity.

Team Arrow hear Oliver over comms.

"_Felicity. Go with Ray. All of you, go. Now._"

Felicity quickly looks between Diggle and Roy. Sees the small nod in Diggle's face before she gives a small smile back.

They always knew it would come to this.

Felicity doesn't look back before she turns and sprints as fast as she can straight to the entrance of the burning building.

Ray shoots forward, but he's held back by Roy on one arm, Diggle on the other.

"Felicity!" he screams, not a shout, a _scream_. "Don't do this—Felicity!"

"Let her go man," Diggle says, holding Ray back until Felicity's out of sight, swallowed by flame and debris.

Ray shakes himself off Diggle, looks between him and Roy like they're the scum of the earth.

"How can you just let her go like that? She's going to end up injured, or worse—killed!"

"Because it's her choice," Diggle says firmly. "You think you're the only person here who cares about her? But right now, she's the best chance he's got."

Behind them Queen Consolidated is a falling firestorm of concrete and glass. Flames engulf the lower parts, fire blasts shoot through breaking windows. Above them the sky is pitch-black.

Diggle looks up at the dark building. "Felicity knows what she's doing. If anyone can get him out, it's her."

* * *

><p>Felicity navigates her way through the fallen debris and shattered glass of QC's lobby. She runs past the elevators, opting to take the emergency stairs instead, all the way up onto the eleventh floor.<p>

"Oliver, I'm almost at your floor. "

"_Felicity? Turn around. Get out!"_

"I'm already on my way, Oliver. Deal with it. Stay where you are."

Pushing the emergency door open on the eleventh floor, Felicity sprints left, cutting around a corner. She finds Oliver trapped behind the glass door halfway down the hallway. Hooded, he stares at her from the other side of the glass, opening his mouth, before another floor collapses. The walls rattle and shake and the thought crosses Felicity's mind it's like walking through a funhouse, except this one might kill you.

"Felicity, we don't know how long decrypting this thing's going to take. _Go_."

She resolutely looks at him through the glass. A blonde strand of hair is plastered next to a cut on her cheek; the panic in his heart increases.

"I am _not_ leaving you here," she tells him, fire in her eyes. "You hear me?"

Felicity instructs him to activate the keypad from his side of the door. He tells her the letters that appears on the display, before a new set appears.

"It's reverse Polybius code," she says. "Repeat the letters back to me."

He does. Watches Felicity's eyes blink rapidly on her side of the glass as she decrypts the code mentally, before nodding, turning to him.

"The code i LO O D."

It doesn't even take a second for the light in the keypad to turn green. The glass door slides to the side, leaving nothing but air between Oliver and Felicity. Unevenly he shoots forward, desperate to get to her and when he does, both of them just… stop. He grabs both her arms and looks down; his eyes are hooded but she sees him clearly. The cut in her cheek glares angry red at him, blonde strands stick to her face in humid bits, still, he doesn't think he's ever seen anything so beautiful before.

"You really are remarkable," he breathes, and she smiles.

"Come on. We need to get out of here."

Oliver nods assent, holding her arm as they run through the long corridor, trying to find their way to the nearest window. The experiences through the last years have made them give Tarzan and Jane a good run for their money when it comes to ziplining.

Then another bomb goes off.

The impact sends both of them toppling to the floor. Felicity hears Oliver groan and curse, feels something sharp jab her in the side. Tries breathing, which hurts, but works. Rolls to her side and sees Oliver half buried beneath an office wall. There's debris and dust everywhere, still she shouts his name and scrambles over to him.

He's trying to push the wall off, but his own strength isn't enough. It's crushing his bad knee against the floor. Felicity manages to grab a hold of the edge of the heavy wall and lift it while Oliver pushes, and together they finally release him. He groans in pain and Felicity knows he's more seriously injured than he'll ever let on.

Without asking she hoists her arm under his and helps him to stand. He can't put his right foot down.

"Is it broken?"

"Don't know," he wheezes. "I only know if we don't get out of here right now we're making this place our grave."

They hobble over to the nearest window as the floor begins to shake. Rumble from beneath, the belly of a monster that's about to implode. That can only mean one thing.

The building's started caving in.

Diggle and Roy shout at them through comms, telling them to get the hell out. Oliver leans against the window ledge, fires off an arrow connecting in the concrete of the adjacent building. Felicity wraps her arm around his body, thinks, it's a good thing she's got a little experience with this by now.

Oliver glances at her, and in spite of the panic, pain and the lethal flirting with death, his eyes gain light.

"Let's fly."

And they do.

Oliver wraps his arm around her, inches himself off the edge and then, she jumps for him. Holds on tight and feels wind swoosh by as QC explodes behind them.

The impact is harsh and real, sending their zipline off course. They veer sideways and Oliver twists Felicity in his arms, flattening her against him so it's his back hitting the concrete when they smash into the wall, before tumbling down together in a heap.

Tangled together on the dusty ground, Felicity clings to Oliver's body until she can feel his stomach move against hers. And she doesn't know why, but she keeps holding on that way, keeps pulling him tight to her as her heart bangs up a strong rhythm that can't seem to stop increasing.

She hears Oliver's voice. Not the Arrow's. Oliver.

"Felicity? We're okay. We're alright."

A rock is sharply jabbing into her lower back, her glasses are askew and broken, still the sight of him this close and _alive_ is the only thing she lets herself feel.

"I almost lost you, you idiot," she says.

His gloved hand reaches out and strokes hair away from her face. Keeps holding her tight.

"Yeah. But you didn't."

On his chest, Felicity looks at him a long moment. Knows the words are true.

Despite all the chaos, the debris that keeps falling around them like slow pieces of history... she's all he can see.

Until Diggle and Roy locate them, they lie there for a while, pebble and stone slowly falling around them like dulled out fireworks.

* * *

><p>Felicity walks into Oliver's examination room a few hours later, where he's half sitting, half leaning against the table.<p>

He came here as Oliver Queen, not the Arrow. Managed to convince the nurses he was at the building that exploded because he wanted to check in on his family's former company. The nurses had too much to do to ask too many questions, and now he's here, knee wrapped and waiting to be released.

There's a little slow moment when they both just look at each other. Don't say a word, don't need to. It's all there between them.

"You know," Felicity eventually says, "If you'd let me invest in that X-ray machine we wouldn't have to be here right now."

It's a remark worthy of an eye-roll or a groan, instead Oliver shakes his head and smiles. Feels good, being able to do that. Been a while.

"How are you?" he asks, soft and concerned. He sees the way she's slouching a little to the side, holding herself a little less straight than usual.

"Fractured rib," she tells him. "I'm adding it to my list of battle scars."

He smiles at that too.

"Diggle's outside. Roy's getting the car." She sits down next to Oliver on the examination table. She's so much smaller than him, her shoulder only reaches the height of his upper arm. "What did the doctors say about your leg?"

He sighs, frustration getting the better of him. "My kneecap's busted. It's going to take some time to heal. So…"

"Go rehab?"

He looks at her. "A few training techniques I learned in Hong Kong should get me up to speed."

Felicity hums. "And, good as they are, you're going to allow yourself the time you need to get better. I'm not suggesting this, Oliver. None of us on the team will agree to send you out while you're still limping."

"Team, huh."

He tries hiding his smile. Always fails around her; it climbs into his eyes. Eventually he grabs a tight hold of old courage and asks, without insinuating anything.

"Where's Ray?"

"I don't know," she answers honestly. "I came here with Digg and Roy."

There's a lull as the meaning of everything unsaid floats through the air between them. He shifts a little; his leg throbs and aches but it's nothing he won't be able to tolerate.

This is harder. Sitting next to her, with so much to say without knowing how.

Felicity nudges her shoulder against his arm. Waits for him to turn, looking down at her with a soft expression.

"I'll save you, you know," she tells him. "Every time."

He consumes her words, lets them sink deep inside him. Keep him warm. For a moment sits like that, wrapped in the slow song of her before he reaches out and places his hand in hers. Warmth flows between them like a summer current.

"And I'll come for you," he says softly. "Every time."

She nods a little. There's a little moisture in her eyes, but that's okay. He feels it too.

"I'm sorry for shutting everyone out," he says earnestly. "I thought I was doing what was best for all of us. But I know now… that's not the case. We're at our best as a team and I let myself forget that. We're better together."

Felicity slowly nods, looking it up at him. A hint of smile in her eyes. "Took you long enough."

"Someone's got to be the smart one. Clearly, that's not me."

"Nope," she shakes her head. "Clearly not."

As she hears him chuckle, Felicity leans the side of her face against Oliver's shoulder, pressing her hand into his.

And he sits there perfectly still, absolutely heartfallen for this woman.

* * *

><p>They don't know that, from the other side of the door, they're being watched.<p>

Ray stands, Diggle's seated in the chair. The latter sips deeply from a tall mug of coffee, while Ray shifts weight between his feet. He knows he should walk away from the window, but he can't help himself. He needs to see it, feel it, his exit wound.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" he asks, glancing down at Diggle. "Getting in the way of something like that?"

Diggle looks at him, expressionless, before leaning forward, elbows on knees.

"I think Felicity's perfectly capable of making her own choices," Diggle says clearly.

He'll tear down armies to defend her, burn cities to the ground. As far as Diggle's concerned, no one will ever be good enough for her. But it's her choice and he'll respect that, too, because he respects_ her_.

Ray looks from him back into the room, where Felicity's eyes are closed and Oliver's holding both her hands, now. The way he's looking at her makes Ray turn his eyes away; it's too intimate, not for him to watch.

It's not a fight, he knows that. There's only the three of them and choice.

And, bitter as the thought is, he's starting to understand how they've already been made.

Ray sits down next to Diggle in the hallway chairs. Picks up his own coffee mug and drinks deeply. Tries not thinking too deeply about things he likes, lives for, holds onto. Still he feels the sting of truth, harsh and brittle and real, beneath his skin like bones on fire. And it's a lot harder to swallow than coffee.

It's time to start letting go.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: **I'm sorry for the delay. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments. Reading through them makes my day a little brighter.

* * *

><p>A week after Queen Consolidated exploded Ray calls Oliver.<p>

Standing on the top floor of Palmer Tech, a company that was always his own, built from scratch. On the other side of the windows the sun shines from behind thick white clouds, bleaching the entire day in a sharp white hue. Oliver picks up on the third signal.

"Palmer," Oliver says on the other end of the line. "How's business?"

"Probably not mine for much longer."

Ray always knew Oliver's lawyers had a case, but he wanted to make sure the company was in peak condition before he handed it back over. Now Ray's leaving him with a non-existent building, but hey. Not the first time Starling City experiences near pandemonium—and he doubts it's Oliver Queen's first, either.

Especially considering his alias.

Ray actually smiles into the phone. In some instances the two men are more alike than either would like to admit, which of course makes the whole thing harder.

"I didn't call about the company," Ray explains. "As a matter of fact, I'm not calling about business affairs at all… but affairs a little closer to the heart."

The sound of wind and movement from the other end stops. Everything goes still. Ray has his attention. Good. Because he won't be able to say this again.

"Felicity is one of the most astounding people I've ever met," Ray says, truth clear as silver. "Smart, beautiful… everything a man could ever want. I'm not sure I've quite met anyone like her before. But, I'm sure you know all of this already."

Golden silence from the other end of the line.

Ray wipes a hand down his mouth. "I realized something about you two, and… I don't want to be between what you two have. There's only one thing I want to know. Do you love her?"

The other end of the line is silent for a long time.

Then, into the thick silence comes a reply, before the line disconnects.

Ray looks at his phone a long time before pocketing it.

* * *

><p>It's a cold spring day when Felicity sets foot on Palmer Tech's rooftop. Catches Ray standing by the edge, hands down the pockets of his pants, looking out across Starling City. Twilight is painting the sky in its colors; the clouds are burning red.<p>

They haven't seen each other since Queen Consolidated blew up.

He stands tall and handsome, as always, but something about the way Ray's holding his shoulders lets Felicity know there's weight behind the sinking feeling in her stomach that's been there ever since he called and asked her to meet him here.

"Ray," she says, coming up behind him. "Hi."

He looks at her, down past his shoulder. Gives himself a moment to absorb her beauty, the softness in her eyes, the fullness of her pink-painted lips. Commits the feeling to memory.

"Thanks for meeting me here."

She stands beside him. "No problem. I mean, finding out _why_ would be nice, but… it's not like I'm pushing or anything. Especially not this close to the edge of an high-rise."

Ray smiles, thinking, he'll miss this.

"Felicity," he says, voice smooth but serious. Spares his heart time. "I asked you to meet me here because… I believe we should be with the people we love. I had someone I loved, who I lost. I don't want to see that happen to anybody else."

Just like that, she _knows._

Felicity blinks against the clear light. Can't object to what's the truth. But it's painful. It's listening to someone else tell a story you already know the ending of, don't want to listen to, but know you need to hear. It's been weeks coming. Some ends pass you by and you only realize afterwards; some you have to face.

Ray glances down at her, the sun a distant ball of amber in the sky. Pushes his hands down his pockets, looks out at the city skyline again.

"I've always had grand visions. For myself, my companies… the city. I've made realities of most of them. Still, I keep envisioning all these things… but you're not there with me."

Felicity wraps her arms around her chest. Feels the cold wind against her cheeks, lets it claw and scrape. Closes her eyes and lets Ray's soft voice play their story out.

"When I stand at the edge and look into my future, I'm reaching for a hand that's no longer there. If I close my eyes, now, I can see it. I see myself standing there on the edge of the future. Are you with me?"

The moment stretches out in silence. The wind is cold and biting. Felicity watches the skyline, feels something deep in her chest move, throb and ache. She lets out a haggard breath and speaks the truth.

"No. I'm not."

Ray nods. Listens to her.

"I'm still in Starling City. Doing what I do here, it gives me purpose. For the first time in my life I feel like I've found my place. My home. A family. It's really important to me, and… I don't want to lose it."

Ray reaches for her hand. Brings it up to his lips; a goodbye kiss with a sting. He looks into her eyes without looking sad. He's got such clear eyes, she thinks. Eyes you can trust.

"It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Felicity Smoak."

Felicity leans up and draws the goodbye slowly from his lips. "Good luck, Ray."

They know this is the end, for both them and Ray's time at the company. Tomorrow he's officially stepping down as CEO, and then there's a little bureaucracy to get through, but then Oliver Queen's reinstated. But for now they let the part they have in each other's story play out, stretch, just a little.

Eventually Ray looks down at her. "You know, I really hope you love him. Because I want you to know I can still be persuaded to change my mind about all this."

Felicity laughs a little. "That won't be necessary. It's like someone I really care about once told me… we don't get to choose who we love. We just do. All we can do is try to make the best of it."

They stand together for a while as the sun keeps on blazing; they hold on as the sun sets on their ending.


	11. Chapter 11

The week after Felicity returns from her vacation she stops by Oliver's loft, unannounced.

He's trying to fix plumbing in the kitchen, learning by doing. Gets most of it right, he hopes. Felicity walks right in; he sits up and looks at her. Two weeks without her have felt like two seasons. He's so happy to see her, but also startled, overwhelmed, all these things he can't put into words that properly express the way he misses her when she's gone. It stays locked beneath his skin like static.

"Hi," she says. "Where are your paint buckets?"

His eyes narrow a little. "What?"

"Paint buckets. Cans with paint in them? Paint I helped you pick out?" She shrugs her jacket off, places it on a wooden table Oliver keeps random things on: a set of keys, water bottle, a grease-stained towel, and an apple.

Oliver blinks. Wipes his grease-covered hands on a towel, indicates between the kitchen and the tall industrial windows.

"Half of the paint buckets are over there, the other half's here."

Felicity nods, before walking over to the windows and picking up a still wrapped paintbrush from the floor next to the buckets. Quickly unwraps it, freeing it from plastic. Oliver watches her on mute, the way she goes about everything, needing to _move_.

"Felicity."

She stops and looks at him. They hold each other's gaze a moment, the distance between them fading to nothing. He gives her a small nod; a long sigh goes out of her.

"Welcome back," he says.

His eyes looking at her are soft. Her lips turn up a little.

"You too."

Then she settles in to work wordlessly.

He does too.

* * *

><p>They fall into pattern after that, slowly but undeniably.<p>

Felicity returns to her place as head of Security in QC's IT Department. She won't be officially reinstated until the new Queen Consolidated building's built, but until then they keep operating on a smaller scale out of a vicinity five blocks away from the Glades. Felicity insisted on it; her boss acquiesced.

There's not many things Oliver wouldn't do for her.

She returns to being the Arrow's partner, perhaps now more than ever. Stops by a few days a week to help Oliver with refurbishing the loft. Painting, wiring electricity, installing his security system. Finding things to do is not difficult when starting from scratch.

Sometimes when Oliver gets to the loft – after spending hours going over the new QC building with contractors, with lawyers and involved board members – Felicity's already there, settled into a task. His heaving heart clenches at the sight, every time. But he never comments. For all the things they don't talk about, there are some things that don't need verbal language to be understood.

Some evenings they trade food for stories, wine for memories.

It's a calm and windstill evening when she asks him about early fears, things that happened years ago but stick with you like scars.

Roy's with Thea on the other side of the city, Diggle's home with Lyla and their daughter. Oliver's holding back on Arrow patrolling until he can do more than just stand on his knee; Felicity has a tablet directly linked to the system in the lair set to alert them if anything turns up. Behind them candles stand flickering in the closed windows; pendulous shadows dance on the floor beneath where they sit on a large white sheet.

"When's the first time you remember being really frightened?" Felicity asks.

Oliver takes a sip of red wine, lets it slosh down his throat as memory burns through. Goes through teenage years, spent mostly being an ignorant dipshit. Spoiled brat. But he still remembers moments that made him human.

"When Thea fell off her horse and broke her arm. I still remember getting the phone call. They didn't tell me she'd broken her arm, only that I needed to get to the hospital. I'm pretty sure I blew every speed limit to get to her." He chuckles and Felicity's eyes soften a little. "I remember how scared I was. Thea wasn't scared—first thing she did was smile when I got to her. Then she told me how sad she was, because breaking her arm meant missing the archery competition she had lined up the following week. And, I couldn't stand seeing her that sad. I went to the gift store and bought every flower bouquet they had. Filled the entire room to make her smile."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah," Oliver smiles. "It did."

Felicity watches light dance in his eyes, but it's not long before it's taken over by a long slow sadness.

"How is Thea?" she asks carefully.

Relief fills her like a dose of tamed euphoria when his eyes light up, turning sadness away.

"She's… good. We're meeting at Broken Wing out on 9th next week. Only talking, but…"

"It's a start."

He nods.

"Oliver, that's great." Felicity reaches out, finds his hand and squeezes. He blinks, caught by the slow dance of stars in her eyes. It's one of the only times he ever feels things are truly great, looking into her eyes.

She takes another sip of wine; he watches crimson drops stick to her lower lip before she licks them away.

"How about you?" he asks, clearing his throat a little.

She wraps both arms around her legs, pulling them up to her chest. Gets something distant and intangible in her eyes; he's sure she's looking all the way into the past.

"Probably when I understood my dad wasn't coming back. It's one thing being told that someone's gone, but it takes a while to understand they're not coming back." She glances at him, then ahead. "If that makes sense."

"Yeah," he slowly nods. "It does."

He thinks of how he's never been afforded slow goodbyes. Drowning, gunshots, bodies crushed against pebble. But he also know what it's like losing someone when they're right there in front of you.

He wants to kick himself the next moment, when he notices how Felicity's eyes are turned away, rapidly blinking. Understands that, once again, he focused on his own pain when someone else was hurting too. He's trying to care in the right ways. Has a long way to go yet, but he's trying.

"_Hey_."

He reaches out, a hand on her shoulder. For a while Felicity simply breathes as his hand rubs soothing circles.

"It's alright," she says, voice building in strength. "Things aren't like they were. I've got a family now."

He nods once, warm eyes, warmer heart. Hopes it makes up for what he's still searching for the right words to say. Felicity takes another sip of her wine and stretches her legs out in front of her. They're better, the two of them, together, but they're not quite _there_ yet.

"Roy's become pretty good," she comments. "Not that I thought he wouldn't be able to, someday, but. Considering how not so good he was after finding out about the cops he killed…"

"He's better," Oliver admits. "I'm starting to see light at the end of the tunnel."

"Mmm," Felicity hums. "Really long tunnel."

Oliver huffs out a warm breath. "It doesn't seem that dark anymore."

He looks at her, the way her eyelids soften and he doesn't think as much as know that's how all of him is, when he's with her. Strong and alive. She sees right through him and it used to frighten him so much, still does, but in her there's an acceptance that never doubts, that crushes all the fear he feels into tiny little slits of hope.

"Oliver. When's the last time you were really frightened?"

He doesn't need to think.

"When you showed up on QC's eleventh floor. I wasn't sure we'd make it out."

She smiles a little. It's sad, but not in a morose way. The kind of sad that's still hopeful.

"I thought I'd lose you," he says quietly.

"Yeah. But you didn't."

They're sitting a few feet apart; their distance always feels too long and too short, at the same time. He thinks of inching closer, wrapping her into his arms and just _holding her_. It's all he wants to do.

But then she takes another sip of wine and the moment's gone.

* * *

><p>She keeps coming by the loft the following weeks.<p>

He doesn't question why she comes here.

For him, it's one more reason to be around her, something Oliver finds himself wanting, needing, a lot more these days. When everything starts to lose importance she reminds him what he's fighting for; one touch from her and the storm of his mind calms.

She's there. He only wishes she could stay.


	12. Chapter 12

It's a rainy Friday when Felicity comes over to help Oliver finish painting his loft.

When she arrives he's already started, standing shirtless in jeans on a paint-splattered sheet, adding a second layer of night-blue paint to the wall left of the open kitchen. He's got one paintbrush in his hand, sweeping the other along walls like he's moving wind. He's taken the weekend off to get this done.

Felicity walks straight over to the cans, sets her bag down and settles into work wordlessly. He smiles at her; she smiles back. The mood is calm and easy like a day without plans.

"Have you thought about how you're doing to decorate it?" she asks, when they've been adding paint for half an hour.

"Only some."

He knows he can put whatever he wants in the loft, that's not what's going to make it feel like home. He can try filling the empty spaces however he wants, but as long as she isn't there something will always be missing.

"Hand me that can, would you?"

Felicity indicates, halfway up the ladder. She's got a paintbrush stuck between her teeth, one hand on the ladder and the other indicating to the paint on the floor next to Oliver. He hands it to her, but she holds it suspended mid-air between them.

"What?" she demands.

It's a good thing Oliver can't see himself in the mirror he hasn't hung up yet. He's smiling like a kid with a crush, and, the feeling's a lot like that, but so much more. If what he feels for her is a crush then love itself is just a word. The sun might as well swallow the earth because if what he feels for her isn't love, then nothing else, at all, has any meaning.

"It's nice seeing you like this," he says easily.

Oliver moves to grab a paintbrush, misses the way Felicity looks at him with curious intent. There's no rush; there's not that many walls left to paint. The entire wall surrounding the windows is made of brick, and Oliver wants to keep it that way, evidence of build and structure. The roughness of what once was.

"I painted parts of the Foundry," she points out.

He nods. "I know. But I wasn't there for that."

"But you're here now."

He glances up at her, smiling eyes. "Yeah. I am."

For a moment he thinks she might understand, why he wants her here so badly. Why he wants her to stay.

* * *

><p>They keep adding paint to the walls until there's not a single spot – other than the brick walls – missing fresh paint. It fills up the whole loft, the smell of something stark and new.<p>

"We're done."

Felicity stands back, retracts almost to the middle of the capacious room. Hand on hips, she takes a look around. Oliver walks over to her, looking at all the walls like he's seeing them anew. Contentedness fills him up, a slow warmth spreading from inside his chest all the way out to his fingertips. Feels _good_. A lot like hope.

A streak sweeps into him, a tone of something mischievous and playful. He can't find the will to keep it down. He's been fighting himself for so long, the echoing shadows within; giving in feels like swimming among stars.

"Felicity."

She looks up at him.

"You have something..." he starts, indicating to her. She draws her hand along her face, nose, looks at her fingers.

"What?"

"Right…" He reaches out, paintbrush lightly touching her nose. Blue as a button. "There."

Felicity's eyebrows dance up and down, before laughter chortles out of her like water laughing its way down a brook.

"Oliver, what is going on with you?"

He doesn't say anything, just smiles and the kid in him reappears.

Felicity turns around and he thinks that's it. Then she quickly swirls around and jabs him in the side with her still moist paintbrush, a streak of midnight blue along his ribs, a piece of night with promise. He loosens his stern self-control a bit and jabs his brush at her; she spins and he misses. One step back and he catches her elbow and it's then, in the heat of contact and sweet rush of delight, the paintbrushes fall to the floor.

Instinct comes in a wave and he pulls her closer. She lets him, unable to meet his eyes a moment, but when she does it's like holding the moon in his arms.

Chest against chest, they breathe. With each breath the heat between them increases, and when Felicity looks up into his eyes they're dark and deep and heated. Her hand strokes his neck, decisively bringing him down closer to her.

Their noses brush and their lips do too.

It's soft and warm and wonderful, how he caresses her lips, gently grabbing her lower lip between his. She pushes back into his body, parting her lips and welcoming him. Feels his hands slide up her sides, shoulders, warm against her neck. Sighs against his mouth, feeling goose bumps trail their way from her toes all the way out to her fingers. Oliver knees go weak, but it's nothing to do with the injury and everything to do with being wrapped in the arms of the woman he loves.

Halfway into their second kiss – third, fourth, who's counting – Oliver smiles against her lips and feels her smiling back.

So this is what coming home feels like.

This time, she stays.

* * *

><p>Thick morning sunlight washes into the room, hazy with morning love.<p>

It's spring outside, but inside the room it feels like summer.

They're lying on a pile of rumpled white sheets flecked with blue streaks. He's slept more comfortably before, so has she, but probably not better. Her face rests in the slope between his neck and shoulder, he's got his arm wrapped protectively around her. Tightly, he holds her soft skin against him, breathing in the slow haze of morning.

She moves and blows out warm breath against his chest, watching goose bumps rise along his skin. It tickles and warms him like sunlight on a summer's day. He can't stop smiling.

"Hey," she says, sleepdrunk and aching in all the right places.

"Hi..."

Her lips are swollen and he smiles, knowing he did that. He kisses the top of her head; she smells like vanilla and something whose name will always escape him because it's all _her_. It's a sense that filled him up last night, hovering over her as he lowered his face to her neck, sinking deep inside her for the first time.

They see themselves in the unhung mirror leaning against the wall. Skin and sheets wrapped around each other, bound by a warm slow happiness.

"Oliver?" Felicity lays her hand on his chest, drawing lazy eights round and round. Feels his thumb slide over her ribs, over her breast.

"Mmm?"

"You really need to buy a bed."

He smiles. "Will you sleep in it if I do?"

Her lips smile against his chest. "Among things."

He draws her closer, resting his face into the nook of her neck and soft golden hair. Feels like dreaming.

_I'm in love with you_, he whispers, truth warmly blowing against her skin. Felicity shivers and smiles, _took you long enough_, her fingertips tickled by the stubble on his cheek as she whispers back, _I love you_, a kiss and again, _I love you_, thinks how scared she's been to say those words out loud, but now she does it's like letting out a breath she's been holding for too long.

She covers a mark she left on his neck during the night, soothes it with her lips. He sweeps his hand over her hips, up her side and shoulder, before sliding back down and resting at the back of her thigh. Pulls her a little closer still. Felicity pushes herself up, rests one hand either side of him, looks down and thinks, she's never seen him look that relaxed before. Like all his troubles are gone. He leans up and kisses her neck, collarbone, her soft breast, before lying back down.

Oliver pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. A wave flows through him, a deep feeling watching her, a warm sensation up and down his back, chest and heart.

"I love you," he says, truth clear as light.

She smiles and the words start forming on her swollen lips. Behind them the sun shines in through a broken window.

He's tired of things that break; he knows they won't be one of them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: **Here we are, the last part.

Thank you to everyone for reading and for reviewing. The feedback has been wonderful and brightened my days. It's been a wonderful experience contributing to such a great fandom. :)

I hope the last part doesn't disappoint…

* * *

><p>It's a warm June day when Diggle and Roy help Oliver carry a heavy couch through the back entrance of the loft.<p>

Outside they've got a truck filled with furniture, everything from a dinner and living room table to a couch, armchairs and a king-size bed. There's closets to be installed, things like coat hangers, mats, stools, a chest of drawers… and that's only the start of it. Some things Oliver picked out, some he got help with.

The woman who helped him stands inside the loft, hanging up tall white curtains, listening to the three men of Team Arrow babble like schoolboys. One of them is the Arrow, accompanied by Arsenal and John Diggle. She's watched them take down Slade Wilson, Church of Blood, Drakon… and currently the grown, lethal men are arguing about the best way to carry a couch.

"Tilt it," Oliver instructs Roy, who does just that and nearly topples it over. "Come on Roy, pay attention!"

"I am paying attention! You should try carrying this end. It keeps slamming against my knees."

"It's not easy being Arsenal," Diggle mocks, receiving a death glare from Roy.

They hobble into the loft, finally managing to set the couch down over in what Oliver's envisioned as the living room area. Grunt as they let it go. Diggle tells Roy no rest, they're going back out there to continue, right now.

"How come Blondie's getting out of this?" Roy demands. "She's strong enough. I still got a bruise where she knocked me in the arm last week."

"Let me see…" Diggle walks closer and _swats_ his fingers against Roy's tiny bruise. Smiles back like a happy devil.

"Come on," Oliver reprimands them. "I'd like to get this done before sundown. We'd like a little time to ourselves."

"Yeah, I bet," Roy comments before heading back out.

Diggle helps Oliver lower the large armchair out of the truck, placing it down on the ground. Diggle indicates between Roy and the armchair, an amused look with his strong arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you insane?" Roy asks him. "I can't lift that thing on my own. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not jacked up on the Mirakuru any longer."

Diggle deadpans him before going over, lifting the armchair easily. He sets it back down and cocks an eyebrow Roy's way.

Who glares.

"Show-off."

* * *

><p>They continue until all the items from the truck are inside the loft. By then Felicity's made them all scones – "First time we used the oven and it actually held up!" – that they all sit down and eat together. Swallow it down with cold beer and the satisfaction of physical labor. Feels good, sitting quiet for a while as the early summer sun streams in through the tall industrial windows. There's a little hope in the air; they all want to catch it.<p>

When the beers are drunk, Oliver's the one who starts going around collecting empty bottles and tissues. Diggle gets the hint, thanks Felicity for the scones and beer, stands up, and not for the first time, pulls Roy up with him by the back of his red hood.

Before they make it to the exit, Oliver calls out after them.

"Roy. Tell Thea I'll call her in the morning."

"Sure thing, boss."

Diggle just gives a nod and wiggles both eyebrows before sliding the steel door shut.

A lid is put on the loft. Everything goes quiet, easy, even the dust seems to float through the air at a slower pace. From the kitchen Oliver hears the sound of plates being rinsed through running water, and for a moment he just stands there, watching specks of dust float through the air. Quietude wraps him into its slow waiting arms.

Wraps _them_.

Oliver watches Felicity rinse plates, put them in the plate rack. Observes the way sunlight catches on the ends of her hair, highlighting strands of it into gold. Lets the sight of her fill him and drinks deeply from the feeling. Glances past Felicity, into the loft that's ready to be lived in. At the furniture, items that's going to make it into a home.

And now he finally has the final part with him, what he's been missing for so long.

His heart.

It's her.

Languidly he walks over and wraps her into his arms. She turns and his hands slide down the soft curve of her lower back, resting comfortably there. Her fingers trace his white t-shirt up to his neck, fingers playing along the edge. Finds a lose thread and tugs a little. He doesn't say a word; she can do whatever she wants with him. Hold his heart in her hands and clench her fist; it's hers. But there's a slight shivering of her eyes that makes him wonder.

"Hey."

He looks around the loft, random furniture scattered throughout, waiting to be organized, built into a home. And maybe that's what's getting to her.

"All of this…" He indicates around them. "It's a lot. Does it scare you?"

She looks him straight in the eye. It's funny, how clueless he can be some times.

"Oliver... I've been held at gunpoint, ziplined crazy heights, had Slade Wilson press a sword to my throat, ran into a burning building to get you out—and those are only_ some_ of the highlights."

He nods. Listening to her say those things makes it sound as though they all happened to someone else, but they didn't. It all happened to her; she survived all of that. She never gives herself credit enough for how strong she is. He'll do his best to honor that too for as long as she'll let him.

He indicates around them. "Still. This is the opposite of a life and death situation."

He feels her sigh against him, her stomach moving softly against his. She adjust her hands behind his back, pulling his hips a little closer to her own. Leans up and kisses him so softly he's left in the moment, blinking slowly, eyelids hazy.

Seeing her clears him up. Every time.

"Oliver." Her lips soften. "Do you understand?"

His eyes warm and dance. Brings her a little closer to him. Feels that what they have together is something no one else can break.

"Yes," he replies at the drop of his breath. "I do."

Slowly, he lowers his face and rests his brow against hers. They look into each other's eyes, two planets orbiting around each other, finally caught in each other's atmosphere.

"I know where I want us to be, but I don't always know how we'll get there," he admits.

Felicity's eyelashes flutter softly. Her eyes are clear and deep; he can see himself in them.

"I don't always know either. But I know where to start."

She closes the distance. He slowly draws love from her lips, letting it fill the empty spaces inside him.

When they pull back, Oliver's smiling down at her and she swears she's never felt so loved. Neither has he. Maybe that's the point.

"Hey," he smiles. "Welcome home."

He knows he'll love her all his life; he never wants to lose another day.


End file.
